


only the sun

by lady_romanov



Series: Femslash February 2020 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Femslash February, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22584733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_romanov/pseuds/lady_romanov
Summary: Luna's eyes tell her everything she needs to know.Or: A love story, and a war story.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Series: Femslash February 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630441
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	only the sun

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this story for years and years now, and after several weeks of struggling with it, I've decided to post it in celebration of my birthday tomorrow. I have so many emotions about Ginny and Luna, and I hope that this manages to capture some of them. Please ignore any typos, its 2 am here and I am feeling a tad emotional about finally having finished this story, as it is very near and dear to my heart.
> 
> Title from Shauna Barbosa: "You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only the sun has come this close, only the sun."

At eleven years old, Ginny decides that she will marry Harry Potter.

At sixteen years old, she knows better.

~

The truth of it is that she _does_ love Harry. She loves Harry the way she loves Quidditch, the way she loves the Burrow, the way she loves magic; easily, completely. She loves Harry, but Harry _leaves_ , and Ginny is left to fight the rising tide of Death Eaters at Hogwarts without him, to see her schoolyard turn into a battlefield. Harry goes and takes her brother and Hermione and leaves her behind to protect her, as if Hogwarts is any safer than whatever stupid, noble thing he’s embroiled himself in this time.

The worst part of it is, she isn’t even surprised.

~

A week into her sixth year, and the bruises from the wedding have only just begun to fade. At night, she still tosses and turns, caught up in dreams of George’s bloody face and Madeye falling from the sky, jets of green light soaring through the air like fireworks. The dorm is quiet; Missy MacDougal, a muggleborn, has been missing for three months; Josephine Hewitt and Isadora Irving have been pulled out and gone into hiding with their families, all of them blood traitors like the Weasleys; only she and Hyacinth Jones are left, and Hyacinth is the quietest sleeper of them all. She wonders if Hyacinth has nightmares like she does, about finding the Dark Mark hanging over her house; she wonders if she has dreams about her father’s screams, or her brothers’ bodies lying still and silent.

At the welcoming feast, the Carrow siblings had sneered at the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike. Ginny had sat beside Neville silently, counting in her head how many people were absent from her table; dead, missing, in hiding. If Harry had been there, he would have caused a scene. Ginny sometimes wishes she could have his reckless, chaotic energy.

When she had glanced at the Ravenclaw table to take a head count, Luna had caught her eye and smiled. It’s the only time since Dumbledore’s death that Ginny has felt even close to normal.

~

Her first two classes of the week are Transfiguration and Charms with sixth year Hufflepuffs, and thankfully carry on like normal – or as close to normal as possible these days. It appears McGonagall won’t let even a Death Eater infestation disrupt their normal routine, and Ginny is thankful for the one saving grace amidst the chaos of their new life. Flitwick is the same, though Ginny thinks she detects a new note of anxiety about the minute Charms professor, an extra wobble in his voice as he instructs them to _swish and flick._

It isn’t until Wednesday that she sees Luna again, during their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class – if it can even be called that still with a bloody _Death Eater_ instructing (she has the feeling it won’t be quite as instructive as Fake Moody’s classes were during her third year) – where the Gryffindors are paired with the Ravenclaws. ‘Professor’ Carrow is late to class, so Ginny takes the time to examine Luna after she sits beside her in the back of the class; she looks paler than usual, she thinks, and a little thinner in the face. _The Quibbler_ ’s sales have dropped to nearly zero since Voldemort took over the Ministry in August, and she knows the Lovegoods probably feel the loss of income as much as Ginny’s family, since her dad’s paycheck was drastically reduced. Other than that, though, Luna looks the same as ever – pale eyes, pale hair, her favorite radish earrings dangling from her ears.

Luna catches her staring and looks over at her, smiling; Ginny wonders how she can do that, can seem so calm and chipper, even now. Luna may not be a Gryffindor, but sometimes Ginny thinks that she’s the bravest person she knows. “What, do I have Nargles around me? I’m afraid I left my Butterbeer cork necklace at home,” Luna says, with her mouth quirked up at the end, like a secret, her huge eyes warm and soft.

Ginny swallows. “Nah,” she says, “it’s just – I’m glad you’re here,” she says, really meaning it. Being around Luna makes her feel braver, somehow, like being wrapped in a small, safe bubble of Luna’s own unique little world, where nothing bad can happen to them.

Luna smiles brighter, somehow, and reaches out to squeeze Ginny’s hand briefly, once, twice. “Me too,” Luna says, something secret and soft in her eyes.

Something strange bubbles up in Ginny’s chest, and she grips Luna’s hand back tightly, feeling the delicate bones in Luna’s hands flex beneath hers like the fragile wing bones of a sparrow. Before she can say anything else, though, the door to the classroom opens, and Amycus Carrow walks in. Luna untangles her hand from Ginny’s gently, and Ginny feels cold, and colder still as Carrow takes his place at the front of the class.

“Welcome children,” Carrow says with a sneer in his voice to rival even Snape’s, “to ‘Defense Against’ the Dark Arts.” As he speaks, students begin pouring into the room, and Ginny realizes that they’re sixth and seventh year Slytherins, and each of them are guiding first years into the room – Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, but no Slytherins – the tiny eleven year olds looking frightened and confused as they’re bustled to the front of the class to stand in a line behind Carrow, the Slytherin students filing in behind them. Ginny feels goose bumps break out on her skin, her heart suddenly racing as she reaches into her sleeve to grip her wand. Beside her, she hears Luna exhale, soft and worried.

Carrow smiles slowly. “Today,” says the Death Eater, “we’ll be having a… _practical_ demonstration, to remind you all of your places in our new curriculum.”

~

By the end of the class, Ginny decides that she hates Amycus Carrow more than anyone in the world.

~

September slips by, slow and awful; death tolls are no longer reported by the _Prophet_ now that the Ministry’s under Voldemort’s thumb, but Ginny can see it anyway, in the eyes of the students, in the thinness of McGonagall’s mouth, in the silence at dinner in the Great Hall. Even Seamus, who has been perpetually loud probably since birth, has gone quiet now that Dean’s not returned to school. Ginny misses Dean sometimes – or, she misses the Dean of before they dated, her friend, not the boy who sometimes looked at her and Harry together in the halls with a bitter sort of longing – and wonders if he and his family are safe. She wonders, if he died, if they’d ever even know; she remembers her parents’ stories of the first war, how so many people just disappeared one day and were never found.

Neville, who sits beside her at dinner every night like some kind of protective shadow, spends their silent meals glaring daggers at Snape and the Carrow siblings, jaw clenched, eyes shadowed. Ginny sometimes wonders what goes through his head – he’s grown up so much from the boy who used to flinch away from Snape’s ire. Ginny sometimes still feels like the little girl who used to stow away into the broom shed at night and steal her brothers’ broomsticks. Sometimes she wonders if that is all Gryffindors really are – children, playing at bravery, in this war that never ends. Other times she thinks of Harry walking away from the only home he ever had to kill a madman, thinks of Cedric facing down a monster for a friend, thinks of her mother raising seven children during wartime, and knows that what they all are – Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins alike – are frightened people just trying to live.

(Neville spends his meals glaring down Snape and the Carrows; Ginny spends hers staring across the Hall at Luna, chewing as slow as she can to savor every moment that they’re still alive. Luna eats as she does everything else – cheerful and enthusiastic, even when her housemates beside her sneer in her direction. Ginny finds herself wishing for pudding every night for dessert, just to see that special little smile Luna reserves for when she’s pleasantly surprised; sometimes she will save some from the Gryffindor table to give to Luna afterwards – she’s not so hungry these days, anyway.)

~

In the second week of October, Neville comes to her with the idea of restarting the DA, and Ginny feels a fissure of hope at the idea.

“We have to do something to help the First Years,” she says, anger tugging at her stomach as she remembers Carrow’s last ‘lesson.’

“I thought we could start hiding them in the Room of Requirement,” Neville agrees. “Pair them up and make sure none of them go anywhere alone… We’ll need to get more people, though. Some of the DA are in hiding.”

“They’ll help,” Luna volunteers softly. It’s late; they’ve managed to sneak out to sit by the shore of the Black Lake, autumn stars reflecting off the black water like a tapestry of light. “Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs – it’s their First Years being tortured, too. They’ll help us protect them, at least, even if they don’t want to join the DA.”

Neville nods, a look of hope stealing across his face, then bites his lip. “What?” Ginny asks.

Neville exhales. “We can help the students,” he says quietly, “I just wish that there was some way to help Harry, too. I mean, he’s out there actually fighting You Know Who, and we’re just… waiting.”

“There must be _something_ we can do to help them,” Luna says, ever optimistic. “Even something small, something they need.”

And then Ginny remembers a night in summer, when Harry and Ron and Hermione were pulled aside by Scrimgeour. “There is something,” she says carefully. “I think it could help. I don’t know why they need it, but Hermione said…”

Neville and Luna look at her eagerly. “What is it?” Neville asks, leaning in.

“We need the Sword of Gryffindor.”

~

Their plan is simple enough, and they nearly manage it. They get all the way to Dumbledore’s office (and it will always, in Ginny’s heart, be _Dumbledore’s_ office) by using the portraits’ knowledge – it turns out that the portraits aren’t too happy about Snape being Headmaster, either, and they’re more than happy to spy for the DA and snitch on Snape’s whereabouts. So, between the portraits and Ginny’s memory of Harry’s magic map routes, they make it to the office. It is darker and colder than Ginny’s memories of being here the day she went down to the Chamber of Secrets, but the Sword is hanging on the wall, and she and Neville and Luna are theorizing if they can risk just grabbing it – Neville worries it might be cursed, though Luna doesn’t think so, but Ginny thinks that cursing Gryffindor’s sword sounds exactly like something Snape would do – when the door to the Headmaster’s private chambers opens, and Snape walks out, black robes billowing around him like a living shadow.

Ginny swallows and raises her wand, vaguely noting Neville and Luna doing the same on either side of them, but Snape merely sneers and waves his wand, disarming them before they can even attempt to curse him.

His mouth curls up in a mocking smile. “Why is it that you Gryffindors love breaking rules so much? Out after curfew, breaking into the Headmaster’s office… How _thrilled_ Potter would be if he were here, seeing his favorite little lackeys still doing his bidding.”

Ginny bristles. “ _Don’t_ talk about Harry.”

Snape merely raises an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you’re in any position to be making demands, Miss Weasley.” He glances between the three of them, wand still pointed at them, and Ginny wonders if they’re going to be tortured, if they’re going to die here like Dumbledore died on the Astronomy Tower, if McGonagall will be sending her body home to her parents instead of a report card. “Now,” he drawls out slowly, “are any of you going to tell me why you’re here, or shall I simply interrogate the portraits?”

Instead of answering, Neville just spits at Snape’s feet, and Ginny’s heart races, but they don’t even need to bother coming up with an excuse, because one of the portraits – Ginny can only make out the names _Phineas Nigellas_ in the low light of Snape’s _lumos_ – pipes up and says, in a bored, nasally voice, “They were attempting to steal old Gryffindor’s sword, Headmaster.”

Snape smirks. “Is that so? My, my, _stealing_ from the faculty. Why, I do believe that’s grounds for expulsion.”

Ginny grits her teeth. “Expel us then.”

But Snape just sighs, bored, and lowers his wand. “Don’t think I won’t, Miss Weasley, if I catch any one of you putting so much as another toe out of line. As it is, you will all be given two months of detention.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Luna’s fleeting look of surprise, and feels her own face mimic it. Detention? If they’d been caught doing this last year, Snape would have _begged_ Dumbledore to expel them. Neville looks ready to argue their sentence with Snape, but Luna reaches out and grips his hand, tightly.

Snape leans back against the edge of his desk, looking down his nose at them. “Now, I suggest you collect your wands, _carefully,_ and go back to your dormitories. Any more noise from you three tonight and I will expel you faster than you can blink.”

Ginny swallows and steps forward, scooping up all three of their wands and handing Luna and Neville theirs back. “Thank you, Headmaster,” Luna says, quietly, and Neville herds them out of the room.

They leave in silence, and don’t say another word as they break off to head back to their dorms; Ginny doesn’t sleep a wink that night, wondering why in Merlin’s name Snape would have let them go.

~

Ginny expects their detention to be with Snape at best and the Carrows at worst, already resigned to the torture, but instead, the three of them spend the rest of October and all of November with Hagrid of all people, helping him take care of his creatures and care for the grounds and set up for his classes. Even Hagrid is confused when they arrive for their first detention, after dinner the day after their attempted theft.

At first, Ginny expects that it’s a set-up for some sick joke, that Snape is going to hurt Hagrid as a warning to them, the way the Carrows torture the muggleborns and first years, but by the end of the second week when nothing has happened but boring labor and an endless supply of Hagrid’s rock cakes, she realizes that for some reason, Snape has decided to let them off the hook. Neville says it’s because he has more pressing matters, like killing people on Tom’s orders.

But Ginny wonders.

~

December is brutally cold, and there isn’t much in the way of Christmas cheer this year. McGonagall and the other proper Professors try to keep the spirits up, but it’s hard to do in the face of more and more people disappearing from school grounds, while the remaining students walk the halls like ghosts, huddled in packs and twitching at every noise. Ginny and the scattered remnants of the DA – those who haven’t had to take refuge in the Room of Requirement, anyway – try to protect the younger students the best they can, but their efforts of rebellion usually just land them in detention, and this time Snape isn’t the one assigning them; Ginny doesn’t think she’ll ever stop hearing the screams.

None of the DA go home for Christmas, unwilling to leave those who can’t to fend for themselves. The castle that usually feels like a winter wonderland this time of year instead feels hollow and cold, not even Nearly Headless Nick’s jokes or Hagrid’s giant Christmas trees able to lift the spirits of the tiny groups of students that eat their Christmas feast in silence.

Ginny and Neville and Luna have continued their tradition of meeting by the Black Lake for private meetings, but on Christmas night Neville instead retreats to the Room of Requirement to try and cheer up the students in hiding, so instead Ginny and Luna are left to go down alone, careful to cover their tracks in the snow the way Hermione taught them.

By the Lake, the war feels farther away; with the castle is bathed in moonlight, and the stillness of the snowy, frozen world around them, the Black Lake a solid sheet of dark ice glittering in the starlight, it feels almost like a normal Christmas. She and Luna sit in silence, sharing heating charms and mugs of hot chocolate provided by the House Elves. After a while, Luna reaches into her robes and produces a small package wrapped in eye-wateringly bright yellow paper.

“I almost forgot the give this to you!” Luna exclaims, breaking the silence. “Oh, and it took me so long to find it, too.”

Ginny takes the package and opens it clumsily with her gloved fingers. Inside the paper, there’s a small stone half the width of Ginny’s palm, smooth to the touch and perfectly round, with a hole in the middle of it about the size of a knut. She rolls it between her thumb and forefinger, trying to understand the significance of the rock – Luna finds wonder in things that most people would overlook, but even Ginny’s a little lost on this one. She can’t see anything magical about it, though she’ll admit that it’s rather pretty to look at, pewter grey with streaks of rust red through it, shining in the light of the full moon.

“Er,” she says, trying not to sound too puzzled. “Thank you, Luna. It’s beautiful.”

Luna smiles broadly. “It’s a witch stone! If you close one eye and look through it, you can see Faeries! I found it here by the Lake. Daddy says the best ones are found by rivers, but I thought that one from Hogwarts must be nearly as good.”

For some reason, Ginny feels her throat close up. She isn’t sure about Faeries, but having a little piece of Luna’s optimism, of Luna’s own special brand of magic, to hold in her hands feels somehow monumental and too large for words. “Thank you,” she says again, more softly, voice gone hoarse with emotion. “I love it,” she adds truthfully, then smiles a little hesitantly, because suddenly her own gift seems rather stupid and pitiful in comparison. “I, ah, got you something, too.” She reaches into her robes, wishing she’d at least thought to wrap it.

She pulls it out and places it in Luna’s open hand, heart racing for absolutely no reason. Luna gasps.

It’s just a necklace. A Butterbeer cork necklace, that is; ever since Luna mentioned she forgot hers at her house over summer hols, Ginny had been going down to the kitchen on the weekends to beg corks from the House Elves, who’d been baffled by the request but more than happy to give them to her. She’d strung them up with a bit of help from Parvati, who’d been confused but happy to work on something not related to the war; the result’s a little wonky and lacking in Luna’s usual flair, but the way Luna clutches it to her chest eases some of the worry in Ginny’s chest that the other girl wouldn’t like it.

“Ginny,” Luna says, quiet and hushed reverent, silvery eyes bright in the moonlight, and Ginny’s heart gives a strange, sudden lurch. “It’s perfect.” Then she beams, bright and effervescent and Ginny’s stomach quakes and her mouth goes dry, and oh, _oh._ “You’re perfect,” Luna adds, softly.

And Ginny means to say, _so are you,_ means to say, _you make me feel like I could be perfect,_ but instead she leans in and kisses Luna.

Time slows, and the very air seems to freeze around them. Luna gasps against her mouth, and their lips are so cold and her hands are so cold but Ginny reaches up to cup Luna’s face anyway, careful and reverent, and Luna trembles a little bit before surging against her, parting her lips so Ginny can slide her tongue into her mouth, and she tastes like hot chocolate and warmth and magic, and _oh oh oh._

When they finally part, Ginny is breathing heavily, heart in her throat, and she feels so warm where Luna’s hands are resting on her waist.

“Luna,” she says helplessly. “Luna.”

And Luna smiles and says, “I know.”

~

January comes in with a blizzard, but Ginny hardly notices the cold anymore; she and Luna continue sneaking out to the Black Lake alone, not even telling Neville where they’re going, all too aware what danger they’d be in if the Carrows caught them. But danger is the furthest thing from Ginny’s mind when she and Luna are alone.

Kissing Luna is nothing like kissing Harry; with Harry it had been like firewhiskey and flying, exhilarating and breathless and bright. With Luna, it’s more like slipping into a warm bath, all gilt-edged and lovely and gentle, heat building in her fingers and belly and toes as she winds her hands into Luna’s soft blonde curls. Harry had always been restless like this, always moving, his hands everywhere and his mouth never staying in one place for long. Luna is so still, though, like she can stay in this one place forever, can live off of this one moment for the rest of her life, her mouth sweet like honey against Ginny’s. These stolen moments feel like someone is casting time magic over them, making the world stop, making everything around them slow until only Luna exists, her sweet sighs and sweeter kisses, her small hands curled around Ginny’s neck as they breath into each other.

She wishes she could kiss Luna forever. She wishes she could stop time and cast this moment in amber, just the two of them alone a world away from the war, where the only thing that matters is finding out what the spot behind Luna’s ear tastes like, what the delicate skin of her belly and hips and thighs feels like beneath Ginny’s hungry hands, what it feels like to have Luna’s long legs wrapped around her waist; Luna’s gasps and sighs are the loveliest sound Ginny’s ever heard.

~

In late February, Luna disappears.

Caught up in the rush of their new relationship, Ginny grows complacent; she becomes bold and blind with the happiness they’ve managed to find. The joy of new love makes her stupid.

Ginny will never forgive herself for not being there to protect her.

It must happen late at night after they sneak back into the castle after one of their trysts, because they part with a long, lingering kiss and in the morning, Luna doesn’t show up for breakfast. Ginny’s world tilts on its axis, blood going cold with terror as the entire breakfast hour ticks by and Luna is nowhere to be seen.

She tries to tell herself that it’s nothing. _She slept in,_ she thinks. _She’ll be in class. She’s fine._

She isn’t. Charms and Potions pass in a daze and Ginny doesn’t retain a single thing as she worries and worries and worries until she feels sick to her stomach. In between classes, Ginny wanders the castle and doesn’t find a single trace of her. Neville hasn’t seen her either, and the Ravenclaws tell her that Luna never came back last night after dinner.

During Defense, Carrow catches her eye and smiles. Ginny has to hold back a scream.

After classes, she goes to McGonagall. The woman seems to sag under the weight of the worlds when she tells her that the portraits had informed her this morning that Luna had been taken by the Carrows last night, officially for breaking curfew, unofficially… well, McGonagall doesn’t know why; it goes unsaid that whatever the reason, it’s a terrible one.

“But it’s my fault,” Ginny says stupidly, “It’s my fault we were out breaking curfew. We, we…” and to her horror, her eyes burn terribly as she starts to cry, chest aching and throbbing as she bites down on a scream of rage, of fear, of grief. “We were, we were together, I…”

McGonagall’s eyes are a million years old. “Oh, Ginny,” she says, not even bothering with calling her Miss Weasley. “Oh, dear girl. I’m so sorry.”

Ginny just cries.

~

March, April, and time slows down again, only this time horribly. Her grades slip even in the classes taught by proper professors, but either McGonagall said something to the others or they’ve all just decided grades don’t matter when they’re living under a tyrant, because none of them say anything, not even Slughorn. Now it’s Ginny’s turn to walk the halls like a ghost, to go to bed every night and stare up at the canopy and think of all the horrible things Luna’s probably going through, mind spinning around and around with terror.

She wonders if it might be kinder to wish Luna dead rather than imprisoned by Death Eaters, but she can’t bring herself to really mean it. There is nothing kind about a world without Luna Lovegood.

~

When Easter comes, McGonagall brings Ginny to her office and tells her that she needs to go home for the holidays. Ginny tries to protest that Neville and the others need her now more than ever, but the Transfiguration Professor looks at her for a long, tense moment and says, “I think you need to worry more about your family right now, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny goes.

~

It turns out that the Death Eaters have discovered that the ghoul posing as a Spattergroit infected Ron is, well, a ghoul, so the family has gone into hiding.

At Aunt Muriel’s.

If Ginny weren’t so worried about Luna (and Ron and Harry and Hermione and Dean and Neville and _everyone_ ) she’d probably be raging at the irritation of having to live with the old bat, but as it is, not even she is capable of feeling rebellious at the moment. One look at her mother carrying around that old clock, all their names pointed to Mortal Peril, and any annoyance Ginny feels at Aunt Muriel’s incessant badgering shrivels up, unsaid.

Her dad tries to keep the mood up by playing Exploding Snap and chess with her, and the twins visit infrequently to drop off new products and pass on news from Lee, but nothing can penetrate the icy fear that lives in Ginny’s chest. The last memory she has of Luna, kissing her the night before she disappeared, lingers in her mind so much she’s sure any legilimens within a thousand kilometers is picking it up. Still, when her mother asks her what’s wrong, she can’t bring herself to tell her. It feels selfish to worry about Luna when all of them are in danger, when all of them are being hunted.

At night, her dreams are filled with screams – of the first years, of her family, of her own, but most often of Luna’s. She has no idea what is happening to Luna, so her mind fills in horrible thoughts about what might be, and more often than not she wakes up shaking and crying, nausea twisting in her stomach so hard she can hardly choke down breakfast most mornings.

“Everything will be alright, darling,” her mum says, a strained smile in place. “You’ll see. We’ll all come through it.”

And Ginny hates herself for thinking, _unlikely._

~

They get word about Teddy Lupin’s birth, and Ginny smiles a little.

Then they get word that Harry and Ron and Hermione are safe and alive at Bill and Fleur’s, and so are Luna and Dean, and Ginny breaks down into tears at the news in front of her parents, all those weeks of tension coming undone at once.

“Oh, my love,” Mum says, holding her close. “Happy tears, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” says Ginny, “yes.”

~

Stepping back into Hogwarts, when the call comes, feels right. Her mum says something about a school becoming a battlefield, but Ginny already knows the truth: it’s been a battlefield since the night Dumbledore died.

Or maybe it’s been a battlefield since Tom Riddle possessed her all those years ago.

Setting eyes on Luna again feels like coming alive, and seeing all her family in one place for the first time in months is an aching relief, but she doesn’t have time to dwell in either emotion, because Harry announces that it’s time; the war is going to end tonight, one way or another. A current of fear and hope runs through the entire room, and Ginny shivers.

She tries not to meet Harry’s eyes.

Before they leave the Room, she manages a brief, stolen moment with Luna; she’s thinner and paler and there’s a new scar jutting across her left collarbone, but she is beautifully, wonderfully alive, and when she reaches out to touch her cheek, she doesn’t disappear like she always does in Ginny’s dreams.

“You’re here,” she whispers.

Luna smiles – it isn’t the same smile though, and there’s a deep pain behind those silver eyes, but Ginny has been starved of those smiles for months and even the barest hint of one feels like the first breath after drowning. “I am,” says Luna, “I’m here.”

And Ginny wants to say something else, something more profound and desperate like _I love you,_ but everyone is filing out of the Room, and if Ginny wants to sneak out to fight, she needs to do it now.

She says, “Later?” and Luna just smiles a little and nods, and the air between them feels electric with fear and hope.

When they go, Ginny spares a moment to pray desperately that there _will_ be a later.

~

The battle is a blur.

Harry and Ron and Hermione disappear and the Death Eaters attack, and Snape is fighting McGonagall while Ginny and Parvati and Neville are fighting Dolohov and half a dozen others, and Fred is dying and Tonks is dying and Colin is dying and she can’t find Luna, can’t hardly catch her breath as people fall around her and Hogwarts burns, and then Harry is dead and then he isn’t and Fred is dead, he’s dead, and, and, and –

~

In the aftermath she finds herself sitting on a bench in the wreckage of the Great Hall; the bodies have been moved; Ginny isn’t sure where, doesn’t really want to find out. She feels numb, her heart gone quiet and stiff in her chest as it beats out _FredFredFred._ Around her, some of the survivors are caught up in a frenzied celebration while others, like her, sit and mourn.

She wonders if Hogwarts will have new ghosts, now.

She’s thinking she should go and find her mother when Luna appears beside her, sitting down. She looks beautiful, even covered in dust and ash and with a split lip. Ginny’s hand shakes when Luna takes it in her own and brings it to her mouth, pressing a kiss against her bruised knuckles. Luna doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to tell her everything will be alright, doesn’t even need to ask her how she is; she just keeps her hand held between her own, dropping it into her lap and squeezing it tightly, once, twice.

And Ginny squeezes back. Once. Twice.

 _I love you,_ Ginny thinks, but she doesn’t have to say anything.

Luna’s eyes tell her everything she needs to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Femslash February everyone, I hope you enjoy this. 
> 
> Also, you can find me on tumblr @oncomingstormss


End file.
